


Daddy Issues

by Em_Jaye



Series: Good Madness [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, F/M, Fluff, Good Madness, Kid Fic, Light Angst, Parent/Kid relationships, family nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness"-Neil GaimanFather's Day





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little drama in 3 acts. Enjoy!

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” Alysha demanded from the counter where she was slicing into her newest experiment. At the prep table, Darcy sighed and did as she was told. “Are they closed?”

“Yup.”

“Kay,” Alysha’s voice grew closer. “Open up,” she said, immediately to Darcy’s right.

Hesitantly, Darcy opened her mouth and felt her the cold tines of a fork on her tongue before she registered what she was being fed. Maple hit her first, chased soon after by the salty smack of bacon and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on hiding in the cakey vanilla batter. She chewed and swallowed thickly, licking her lips before she rendered her verdict. “I like it,” she decided and opened her eye to the expectant expressions of Alysha and Jamie. “It’s good,” she assured them. “Can I see the presentation?”

Alysha popped up from her seat and scurried back to the counter. She was back in a second, presenting a single scone with the top corner missing. “Vanilla-bourbon batter, baked around maple-soaked strips of bacon,” she said proudly as she broke off a piece and dropped it on her tongue. She glanced at Jamie. “We’ve been calling them Spring Break Mistakes.”

Darcy wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Call ‘em something else and I’ll put it on the summer menu.” She had another piece and pushed the plate over to Jamie. “And I don’t love the whole strip of bacon inside,” she decided after closer consideration of the scone in front of them. “Will it mess with anything to chop it into smaller pieces?”

Alysha shook her head. “I don’t think so. And then there are more bites with bacon.”

“What about calling them Boozy Hipster Bacon Bites?” Jamie suggested thoughtfully, his head tilted to one side.

“That sounds like dog treats,” Darcy said instantly. “And just out of curiosity—absolutely no judgment whatsoever—how stoned were you two when you decided to try this?”

Alysha snorted. “Oh my God,” she said with a guilty laugh.  “ _So_ stoned.”

“Oh yeah,” Jamie agreed. “It was bad.”

Darcy laughed and stood up. “Never change, babies,” she implored as her phone vibrated.

“We could call them Wake and Bakes,” Alysha said as she swiped a stray crumb from her thumb with her tongue.

Darcy smiled as she pulled up her most recent email. “I actually kind of like that…” she trailed off an felt her face fold into a frown of confusion.

“What’s up, _Jefa_?” Jamie asked, concerned.

“Uh, nothing,” she shook her head and put her phone away. “Just an ad, I think. Anyway, let’s clean up and get out of here.”

Alysha stood up quickly. “Don’t worry about this place,” she said confidently. “Jams and I have it on lock.”

Resisting the urge to take her phone out again and study the email closer, Darcy nodded. “I can stick around if you need me to,” she insisted.

Jamie shook his head. “It’s just cleaning and stocking,” he reminded. “We got it.”

They split the rest of the scone and returned to the front to finish their closing responsibilities. Darcy checked her watch and headed toward the back room where Mina and Laura had surrounded themselves with an ocean of cupcakes.

“We need a bigger prep space,” Laura said with an exasperated laugh.

“Apparently,” Darcy said, returning the chuckle. “What time do these need to head out?”

Mina checked the clock on the wall. “Wedding is at three, the reception starts at six, so we’re just going to get to the hotel as close to three as possible.”

“Chris and Ben are coming down to help load and carry,” Laura added, speaking of her husband and sixteen-year-old son.

“Nice,” Darcy commented. “Sounds like you guys have it all worked out. Do you need anything?”

“You could bring us some white boxes,” Mina said with a shrug before she looked around, embarrassed. “We kind of iced ourselves into the corner here.”

Darcy laughed and retrieved the fancy white boxes from dry stock and helped her bakers package enough of the cupcakes so they could move freely around the kitchen again.

Laura checked her watch and smiled. “Hey, get out of here,” she demanded suddenly. “It’s Saturday. Go be with your people.”

She laughed again. “Why is everyone kicking me out today?”

“We’re not kicking you out,” Mina insisted with a grin. “We just think you’re cute and want you to go be cute with Steve and Charlotte for the next two days.”

“You are all making an excellent argument for leaving early,” Darcy decided. “But call me if you need me,” she reminded on her way back to her office.

She called her goodbyes to Alysha and Jamie and texted Steve to tell him she was on her way.

She opened her email again when she got on the bus and stared at the message that had derailed her attention moments ago.

“ _You have a new close familial match!”_ Ancestry.com informed her with a cheerful exclamation point. She tapped on it with an unwelcome sense of trepidation and waited while she was redirected to the website.

The DNA test had been Aunt Selma’s idea a few years ago when she’d gone through a genealogy kick and made the whole family send their saliva off to be analyzed. At the time, Darcy had been vaguely interested in the results, surprised to learn that she was much more Italian than the rest of her family and spent about ten minutes wondering if this might lead to some poor unsuspecting middle-aged man finding out that he’d had a daughter in Brooklyn for the last thirty years.

Her phone jumped from signal to signal, trying to connect to a fleeting wifi hotspot; the spotty connection forced the site to stop loading twice before the bus lurched to a stop a block from Steve’s house. Frustrated and fighting her stomach from twisting unnecessarily, Darcy tucked her phone into her back pocket and disembarked the bus with a resolve to try again later when she had a strong connection.

And maybe a hand to hold.

The house was quiet when she let herself in. Darcy dropped her purse on the dining room table and followed her curiosity into the kitchen, surprised to find the basement door open. The rise and fall of Steve and Charlotte’s voices urged her down to sit in the middle of the staircase and enjoy the scene before her.

Steve stood behind his daughter, his hands taped into fists and resting on Charlotte’s shoulders. “Square up,” he reminded and waited for her to adjust her stance. She raised her fists in front of her face and scowled at the punching bag in front of her. Steve caught sight of Darcy first and greeted her with a quick smile before he tapped the bag right at Charlotte’s eye-level. “What are you going try to do?”

Charlotte looked determined. “Punch through the bag,” she said with a nod before she looked up. “If I really _do_ punch through the bag, can you tell my teacher I don’t have to go to gym anymore?”

Darcy grinned and watched as Steve nodded, amused. “Sure,” he agreed easily. “Now focus,” he said, sobering again, “and give it your best shot.”

Charlotte took a deep breath and drove her fist into the punching bag. Almost immediately, she recoiled and sucked an inhale through her clenched teeth. “Ow!” she exclaimed, shaking her right hand. “You didn’t tell me it was going to hurt!” she accused.

“No,” Steve agreed. “But I _did_ tell you to let me wrap your hands before you started messing around with the bag, didn’t I?”

Charlotte sighed, her pink lips dropping into a frustrated pout. “Well yeah,” she said, still indignant. “But I thought you were just being a dad about your _rules_.” From the stairs, Darcy snorted a laugh and drew Charlotte’s attention from her sore hand. “When did you get here?” she asked, delighted.

“Just snuck in a minute ago, Peanut,” Darcy said. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting a boxing lesson.”

Charlotte beamed, her mishap with the punching bag apparently forgotten and looked up at Steve with a grin. “Daddy’s teaching me how to box so the next time Grayson Wells gets me in trouble I can punch him in the throat.”

Steve frowned. “That is _not_ why I’m teaching you to box, young lady. And if I hear that you are ever the one starting fights with anyone it’s going to be one incredibly long, Amish summer, you understand?”

Charlotte’s blue eyes widened at the thought of a summer of no electronics and double chores and she nodded quickly. “Yeah, no, I know. I didn’t mean I’d punch him _first._ ” Hurriedly she turned her attention back to Darcy. “You’re here so early,” she observed.

“I know,” Darcy got to her feet as they started up the stairs. “I tried to keep working but everyone kicked me out of the shop,” she said as they all reached the kitchen.

Charlotte giggled and gave her a hug. When she looked up, her chin hit right at Darcy’s belly button and made them both laugh. “I’m glad I got to see you,” she let her go. “I thought I’d be gone before you got here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Mariah’s mom is taking us rock climbing and then I’m sleeping over at her house!” she exclaimed before her face fell. “Dad, what time is it?”

“Time for you to get a watch, kiddo,” Steve said without missing a beat. Charlotte and Darcy both groaned in response and urged him to continue, with a grin, “And it’s time for you to get your stuff together so you aren’t making them wait.”

Charlotte took off without another word and pounded heavily up the stairs. Darcy watched her leave with a smile before she turned back to Steve. “You know she’s totally going to punch that Grayson kid in the throat the next time he messes with her.”

Steve nodded, pulling at the tape on his right hand with his teeth. “That little shit deserves it,” he grumbled and flexed his fingers once they were free. “Her hair is still pink, by the way,” he added with a flick of his eyes in the direction Charlotte had just run. “That’s almost three weeks.”

Darcy pressed another smile between her lips. “I’ll help her bleach it out before she has to push back an interview with JP Morgan or something.”

He smiled as he crossed the few feet between them and reached to pull her in. “Smart ass,” he said softly and dropped his lips to hers. “You okay?” he asked when he pulled away.

She felt her frown lines deepen despite her nod. “Yeah,” she decided. “There’s just a…” she trailed off and shrugged. “A thing. It’s probably nothing and I'll explain later, after Charlotte leaves.”

His expression of concern darkened. “Is it serious?”

She forced a laugh and shook her head. “No, it’s probably nothing. I’m just feeling apprehensive; but I promise,” she patted his chest, “it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Steve didn’t look convinced as he stepped back to unwind the tape from his left hand. He glanced back at the clock on the microwave and frowned deeper. “I’m going to go double check and make sure Charlotte’s got everything she needs,” he said, tossing the used tape in the trash. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she said simply and followed him into the living room where she dropped down on the couch and forced herself not to look at her phone.

Steve stopped a few stairs up and turned back. “Hey, Tony texted me earlier. He was asking for your number—said he wanted to talk to you.”

Darcy frowned in confusion. “What for?” She hadn’t mentioned it to Steve, but her first impression of Tony Stark hadn’t been the greatest. His reaction to meeting her at Bucky’s birthday party had stuck in her memory, resurrecting itself at inconvenient times. Making her wish her mother was still around to ask exactly what kind of history they had together.

He shrugged. “Didn’t say, but I didn’t tell him anything—wasn’t sure what you wanted to give out.”

Her lips twisted in thought and she wrinkled her nose. “You can give him the bakery number I guess?” she said with a little lift of her shoulders. “Maybe he just wants to cater something.”

Steve studied her for a minute. “I don’t have to give him anything if you don’t want me to,” he reminded. “It’s your info.”

She nodded thoughtfully before she shrugged again. “No, the bakery number is fine—or my email.”

He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. He turned, about to descend the stairs when a streak of blonde and pink shot past him and reached the door first. Charlotte pulled it open with a squeal of delight and welcomed Sam’s niece inside with a hug. Steve had reached the bottom of the stairs again when the girls turned to face him, holding hands.

“Look, Dad!” Charlotte exclaimed, motioning to the identical outfits she and Mariah were wearing—obviously planned for the occasion. “We match!”

“I bet you can’t even tell us apart, Mr. Steve,” Mariah chimed in, making Darcy grin in the other room.

She watched as Steve studied the two of them, pretending to examine them closely, looking at Mariah’s corkscrew twists and Charlotte’s pink-streaked French braids. Mariah’s large, round glasses compared to Charlotte’s myriad missing teeth and finally, he stood up and shook his head. “You’re right,” he said, throwing up his hands. “You two look exactly alike.” The girls laughed victoriously, and Darcy caught Steve fighting a grin of his own. “Whichever one of you is Charlotte, go get your stuff—you girls have some rocks to climb.”

The house was quiet again only a few minutes later, Charlotte and Mariah had gathered up her overnight bag and pillow and swept out of the house after giving hugs and kisses and promises to be good for Mariah’s mother. Darcy retrieved her phone from her pocket and pulled up the email again. She clicked the link to log in to her account.

Steve dropped down on the couch next to her with the familiar, almost exasperated sigh he usually let out when he managed to successfully get Charlotte where she needed to be. “Okay,” he said, sitting up straight again. “What’s going on?”

Darcy glanced up to find him looking at her expectantly. “I, um,” she coughed, suddenly feeling stupid for getting so worked up. This connection could just as easily be a member of her family she already knew about. Or some distant fourth cousin she’d never meet. She rolled her eyes at herself and extended her free hand. “Just hold my hand while I look at this, okay?”

Still looking wary, Steve did as she asked, and Darcy followed all the prompts to view her new familial match.

And there it was.

Paternal match. The missing half of her DNA.

The name of the person she used to daydream about; the man whose backstory she wrote and rewrote a million times as a child.

Right there on her phone with an option to contact him through the website. There was even a photo so there could be no doubt.

Darcy set her phone on the coffee table and sat back. “Huh,” she said aloud, unable to utter more than a single syllable.

She felt Steve’s eyes on her for a long moment before he finally leaned forward and picked up her phone. “What is it—” He stopped himself and pulled the screen closer to his face. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Darcy heard herself say over the sudden rising wave of noise in her head.

“Darcy…this says…”

“Yup.”

Steve stared at the phone and then back at her. Her own gaze hadn’t budged from the spot on the coffee table. “This says Tony Stark is your father.”


	2. II

II.

 

Steve broke the heavy silence first. He let out a shocked half-laugh that jarred Darcy and rattled against her ears. “That’s crazy,” he assessed. “What are the odds?”

“One in…” she shrugged, “what, eight billion or something?”

“This is great!” Steve’s smile faded at the look of confusion that twisted Darcy’s features. “…Isn’t it?”

She opened her mouth to respond and only managed a croak of uncertainty before she tried again. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment of thought. “Is it?”

He almost scoffed but caught himself. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated honestly. “I guess I never really thought I’d find out and if I did…” Her shoulders moved in another shrug. “I guess I don’t know if it really matters.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Of course it matters,” he said with another light chuckle. “This is your _dad,_ Darcy.”

It was her turn to scoff. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Who even knows if these DNA tests are real science anyway? It’s not like it came from a crime lab or even a hospital—” She grabbed her phone again. “It even says that they’re not 100% accurate so this whole thing could be one big mix-up.”

He watched as she leaned forward and flipped her phone over. “Did you…” he frowned, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Did you really never care if you found out who your father was?”

“Not really,” she said with a little more bite than she meant. “I mean, I only did this stupid ancestry thing because my aunt made us. I just figured if anyone ever popped up as my dad it’d be some random dude in Gainesville or something that I wouldn’t have to have anything to do with.”

Her confession hadn’t done much to relieve the confusion on Steve’s face. “Gainesville?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “My mom always told me I was the product of a three-day music festival in the Everglades,” she admitted. “That it was 72 hours of jam bands and jungle juice and six weeks after she got home, she found out she was pregnant,” she recited mechanically. She’d heard that story so many times; she could still recall each inflection of Raina’s voice, the way she’d laugh to herself at _jam bands and jungle juice_ and affectionately refer to her daughter as her little souvenir. She shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just decided once upon a time that he was from Florida.”

Steve absorbed this with a slow nod. “And that would be…preferable to what actually happened? Some stranger in Gainesville you could ignore for the rest of your life?”

She sat back on the couch and crossed her arms over her stomach. “It’s complicated.”

“Sounds complicated,” Steve agreed and remained on the edge of his seat, his hands clasped between his knees.

Darcy groaned and ran a hand over her face. “Ugh, I should have just deleted that stupid email.” She sat up again, still full of anxious energy. “See? I’ve had a dad for all of ten minutes and he’s already messing with my life! I should have just deleted it without reading it and then I would have come over and we could have taken advantage of the empty house and had sex on the kitchen floor or something—”

“We can still do that,” Steve put in quickly.

Darcy smiled against her will. “Well now it’s weird,” she insisted. “Because now I’m like, banging my dad’s friend and that’s just—”

Steve cut her off with a kiss that quieted her mind for as long as it took him to pull away. “That is _not_ what you’re doing,” he assured her. “And we don’t have to talk about it anymore until you’ve had some time to figure out how you feel.”

“That might take a while,” she grumbled.

Steve smiled softly and kissed her again. “I’ve got a while,” he promised. He turned her gently away from him and pressed his thumbs into the tense muscles of her shoulders. “And in the meantime, if you want to go back to imagining your father is some,” he pushed her hair to one side and kissed the top of her shoulder, “faceless,” he kissed her neck, “overweight,” and the spot below her ear, “Gators fan,” Darcy felt him smile and found she could not smother her own grin at the idea, “that’s perfectly okay with me.”

“Thank you,” she said around a sigh when he kissed the shell of her ear and pulled her back closer against him.

“You think about whatever you want if it means I can take advantage of this empty house and ravage you on the couch.”

Darcy turned around with a smile and a lifted eyebrow. “Not the kitchen floor?”

Steve shook his head. “You don’t want that,” he assured her seriously. “There’s at least two weeks worth of Fruit Loops on that floor.”

She laughed and shifted back around to face him. “I love you,” she said simply and wound her arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

“I love you too,” Steve promised before he grinned, “you little Freudian nightmare.”

Darcy gasped and went to smack him, but he interrupted her by tickling her ribs and kissing her neck, making her squeal with laughter.

 

***

 

By nature, Steve was a meddler. He’d been a meddler all his life—used to get in trouble for it as a kid and it was an unpleasant trait that had followed him to adulthood. Mostly, he felt his meddling was under control. Charlotte required _constant_ meddling and gave him the perfect outlet for almost all his meddlesome energy.

Almost.

The idea occurred to him some time Saturday night. After Darcy had fallen asleep without another word about her DNA results or Tony or what anyone was supposed to do with this new information.

It chewed at him slowly on Sunday and into Monday, worming its way from the back of his mind to the front, demanding action and attention as soon as possible.

By Tuesday morning, when he met Sam for their weekly morning run, it was too late.

He _had_ to do it.

“Hey, question,” he said as they turned the corner toward the bridge in matching pace, their shoes pounding the pavement in the same rhythm.

“What’s up?” Sam asked, not looking over.

“If I asked you for help with a DNA match,” Steve said, hoping to sound as casual as possible. “Would that be something you could help me with?”

Despite his light tone, Sam stopped running abruptly and let his head recoil in surprise. Steve stopped a few paces ahead and walked back to his friend as he wiped his brow. “What?” Sam asked.

Steve sighed. “If I had someone who…” he shrugged, “y’know, needed a DNA test to confirm something. Could you help me out?”

Sam offered him an impressive side-eye. “Steve…you know there’s _no way_ Charlie _isn’t_ your kid, right?”

“What?” Steve shook his head. “No, this isn’t about Charlotte. It’s about Darcy.”

“I don’t know how to break the news to you, buddy,” Sam clapped his shoulder as they started walking again, “but if Darcy’s pregnant, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say there’s a 99% chance you’re _that_ kid’s father too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Darcy’s not pregnant.”

“Then what’s the DNA test about?”

His insides squirmed, fighting the last urge to stay quiet and forget the whole thing and let Darcy deal—or not deal—with it herself. “She’s…um, she’s trying to find her dad.”

“Oh,” Sam relaxed and nodded with understanding. “Well look, I mean, I can try to see if one of the criminalists has a free minute to run a swab for her,” he said before he frowned. “But that’s only going to be useful if her dad’s committed a crime and is in the system.”

Steve’s stomach twisted again. “What if you had a sample from the guy that might be a match?”

“Well yeah, that’d be a lot easier but then they could just go to a doctor or a genetic lab…” Sam trailed off and his side-eye returned. “Y’know, if that’s something she actually wants to do.”

Steve shrugged thoughtfully. “She said it’s complicated.”

“Then stay out of it,” Sam said abruptly. He rolled his eyes when Steve looked in his direction. “You don’t think I know what you’re doing? Does Darcy even know you’re talking to me about this?”

“Not…specifically,” he admitted before he rushed on over Sam’s groan. “It’s Tony,” he blurted out. “Tony is Darcy’s dad.”

Sam fell silent for a moment. “Our Tony? Tony Stark?”

“Yeah,” he said with a guilt-laden exhale. “She did one of those online genealogy things and he popped up as her father.”

“And she’s not happy about it?” Sam guessed.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “She said she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” Sam offered another casual nod. “Then I was right. Stay out of it.”

“Yeah, but it’s _Tony_ ,” Steve argued. “He’s our friend—”

“Yeah, and he’s Darcy’s dad,” Sam cut him off again. “This is officially father/daughter shit and you really don’t want to get in the middle of it.”

Steve’s contemplative silence walked between them for the next few feet. He opened his mouth, but Sam held up a hand.

“Nope.”

He sighed. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I know that ‘nope’ is an appropriate response,” Sam said firmly. “Seriously, dude. Leave it alone.”

Sam had changed the subject before Steve could think of a way around his argument.

 

***

 

By the time she left the bakery on Saturday afternoon, hours later than usual, Darcy’s jaw was starting to ache. She’d been clenching her teeth for almost forty-eight straight hours by that point. Every time her phone made a noise, vibrated, or even offered a helpful blinking light to remind her of a notification, she fought the urge to throw it against the wall, praying it would shatter.

It had only taken one unsolicited phone call for her to realize what had happened. The two calls, one voicemail, one text message, and one email that followed over the next two days only served to drive home the reality that had her near boiling with anger.

Steve’s door was unlocked and she let herself in, surprising him and pulling him to his feet from his place on the couch behind a sketch pad. “Hey,” he said with a cautious side-eye. “I wasn’t sure if you were still…” he trailed off as Darcy stood in the doorway of the living room, trying her best not to explode before she gave him a chance to explain himself. “I texted you…”

She felt her eyebrows shoot upward. “Oh, you did? Well sorry, I didn’t get it because I turned my phone off yesterday because I was getting inundated with calls and texts from someone I don’t recall giving my number to.” She waited only a second, watching as his shoulders dropped and he brought a hand to his face. “Any idea how that might have happened, Steve? How the one person I specifically asked you _not_ to give my personal phone number to suddenly has it and has been using it to ask if I want to get together for a cup of coffee and get to know each other?”

“Look,” he sighed, “I’m sorry but—”

Darcy held up her hand. “Okay, if you’re going to start with ‘I’m sorry _but_ ’ then I’d rather you just keep your incredible insincerity and skip to the part where you explain yourself.”

“I know I should have asked you if it was okay for me to give Tony your number—”

“And yet!”

“But I knew what you’d say and honestly, it’s just not fair, Darcy. He’s your father whether you want him to be or not—he’s part of your family and you two deserve to get to know each other.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, disbelieving what she was hearing. In the argument she’d rehearsed in her mind, she would come in and blow up for a second, Steve would apologize, and they’d be made up in time for dinner. She hadn’t expected he would double-down like this and defend his terrible decision-making. “Do you hear yourself?” she asked aloud. “Do you hear the words you’re saying? He’s _my_ father whether _I_ want him to be or not. He’s _my_ family, right? That’s what you just said?” she plowed ahead without waiting for him to answer. “Then why don’t you think that _I_ have a right to decide if I want him in my life or not?”

“Are you guys fighting?” Charlotte appeared at the bottom of the steps, her eyes wide with worry.

“No,” Darcy lied, a little too forcefully, just as Steve said, “Go outside.”

“What did he do?” Charlotte asked, ignoring her father’s instruction. She glanced at Steve. “Dad, you should say you’re sorry.” She looked back at Darcy. “He probably didn’t mean it—whatever it was.”

“Charlotte,” Steve barked, snapping his daughter’s attention back to him. “What did I just say?”

Darcy forced herself to take a breath and shook her head. “It’s fine, Peanut,” she managed tightly. “We’re just having a disagreement.”

The nine-year-old was unconvinced. “Well, somebody should say they’re sorry before it turns into a bigger fight,” she suggested, glancing between the two of them, her features pinching closer in distress.

Steve sighed and ran his hand over his face again. “Charlotte Grace, if you do not get out of this house,” he snapped his fingers and pointed in the direction of the kitchen and the backyard, “you’re gonna wish you had.”

It was Charlotte’s turn to sigh as she shot her father a glare and walked in the direction he’d pointed. “Don’t be mean to her!” she called over her shoulder before she slammed the back door.

He shook his head as the sound reverberated around the house. “Thanks for that, by the way,” he muttered.

Darcy scoffed. “She’s fine,” she assured him. “She’ll live. You and I are still having a problem.”

“Jesus, I said I’m sorry—”

“ _No,_ ” she cut him off, “you didn’t! You didn’t listen to me, you didn’t respect my wishes, you just plowed right ahead with what you thought was best and guess what? You were wrong, Steve! Because honestly? I’ve never given a _shit_ who my father is and knowing it’s billionaire Tony Stark doesn’t make up for the fact that the one person I thought I could trust in my whole life lied to me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Not _you,_ ” she snapped. “My mother, Steve! My mother spent twenty-six years telling me the same lie over and over again and I don’t even get to ask her why.” She threw her hands up and felt her voice catch as Steve’s expression softened slightly. “And I know that you grew up in a situation where you had to make your own family and you just…collect people and call them family and that’s great,” she admitted. “It really is. But I had a family, okay? Me and my mom and she always said it didn’t matter who my dad was because we were all we needed, and I want to know _why_ she kept this from me and it’s _not fair_ that she took away my ability to have this person in my life while I was growing up and it’s not _fair_ that you took away my ability to decide if she was right to do that or not.” She felt her throat growing thick with an unwelcome rush of tears and her feet started backing up toward the door.

“Darcy…” Steve took a step toward her, but she held up a hand again, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

“No, I just…I can’t be here right now,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I just…” she grabbed the door. Her feet carried her down the steps and onto the sidewalk before she could dwell on the fact that it was the first time she’d left his house without a kiss goodbye.

 

She thought she might start crying right away, but the tears stayed stuck in her eyes and the sob sat hot and heavy at the back of her throat. She didn’t even realize where she’d started walking until it was too late to go anywhere else.

A light was on in the back room of the bakery and the espresso machine was lit up. Darcy frowned and reached for her keys, unlocking the door before she could stop herself.

“Hello?” she called cautiously, squinting in the uneven light.

Her heart sank with relief at the sight of Aunt Selma’s head popping around the corner. “What are you doing here?” she asked, a ballpoint pen between her teeth as she pulled her shoulder-length dark hair up and out of her face.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Darcy countered as she dropped her bag on the counter, unable to answer her aunt’s question.

“Double checking your quarterly taxes,” she answered as she twisted her hair around the pen and secured it to her head with an effortless grace that made her niece jealous. She stopped fidgeting and examined Darcy as she came closer. “What’s wrong, honey? What’s going on?”

Darcy let her heavy sigh speak for her as Selma beckoned her with an open hand. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her back to the prep area where she’d spread out over the table with IRS forms, sales reports and expenditures. “You want me to make you a drink?” she asked as Darcy dropped into a chair and rested her chin on her arms.

“Sure,” she said listlessly.

She felt Selma’s nails scratch lightly at the back of her head. “One minute,” she promised.

Darcy reached for the bright red mug that her aunt presented her and took a sip. She smiled around a rush of nostalgia. “Chocolate-covered cherries,” she said softly and took another drink of her cherry-flavored hot chocolate.

Selma smiled. “I used to make that for you and Jane when you’d have sleepovers, you remember?”

Darcy nodded and licked the foam from her top lip. “You always were a better barista than Mom,” she admitted.

Her aunt laughed softly. “Steamed milk and spreadsheets,” she shrugged and looked at her surroundings before her smile dimmed just slightly. “We made a good team.”

Darcy set her mug down and summoned her courage. “Aunt Selm?” she asked, willing her stomach to stop flipping with anxiety. “If I ask you something, do you promise to tell me the truth?”

Selma looked up, concerned, and pushed her glasses back onto her nose. “Of course, sweetheart.”

She took a deep breath. “Did you know that Mom had a relationship with Tony Stark?”

Selma blinked, taken aback. “Yes,” she said, surprising Darcy with her answer.

She forced herself to keep going. “Did you know he’s my father?”

This question was met with a long, measured sigh. “Yes.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows. This admission felt like less of a punch in the gut than she had expected. “And…the music festival? Jam bands and jungle juice?”

Selma smiled sympathetically. “Honey,” she reached across the table and grabbed hold of Darcy’s hand. “Your mother had a fling with one of her regulars—it wasn’t the first time. She couldn’t walk down the street without somebody falling in love with her. But she and Tony hit it off and had a lot of fun for a couple of months.”

Darcy scoffed. “And then what? She found out she was pregnant, and he bailed to go make billions on the military industrial complex?”

To her surprise, Selma laughed. “My God you sound just like her,” she said and rolled her eyes affectionately. “No, Darcy. He didn’t _bail_ because your mother never told him she was pregnant.”

“What?”

Her aunt shrugged. “She said they had an amicable break-up and he moved to DC for some government contract and she didn’t expect to ever see him again.”

“And what about me?”

She shrugged again. “Well she definitely wanted _you_ ,” she assured her niece with a smile. “She just didn’t want to get a bunch of messy feelings involved when she and Tony had already decided to part ways.”

Darcy felt her expression contort in confusion. “And she just…decided to lie to me my whole life about it for fun? Got you all in on the lie too? Does Grams know? Does Jane?”

Selma shook her head. “No, of course not,” she promised. “Your grandmother believes the music festival story just as much as you did. Nobody knew except me.” She sighed. “Look, I know she thought about telling you—or telling _him_ when you were younger but…” she pursed her lips. “I don’t know, Darce. She knew what he did for a living—the kind of work he was involved in…” she shrugged again. “I think it scared her. I don’t think she wanted you to know that your father was building bombs and weapons for people all over the world.”

“But shouldn’t that have been _my_ decision?” she asked, knowing full well she wouldn’t get an answer. “I’d love to know why everyone thinks they know better than I do when it comes to dealing with my own father.”

A few dark pieces of Selma’s straight hair dislodged as she shook her head again. “I loved my sister with all my heart, baby girl,” she reminded her. “But that doesn’t mean I think she was always right. Whether she meant to or not, it’s okay to admit that her decision hurt you.”

Darcy hummed in consideration. “Feels kind of wrong,” she admitted. “To be mad at her now, y’know? Like it’s some kind of betrayal of her memory.”

“It’d be a betrayal to remember her like some kind of saint who never made a mistake,” Selma corrected. “She made plenty, okay? She was far from perfect. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t love you with every inch of her heart. She would have done anything for you…she just didn’t always think things through. And I always worried it might end up hurting you in the process.” She gave Darcy’s hand a squeeze. “Unfortunately, loving someone doesn’t stop them from hurting us,” she smiled sadly. “Only makes the hurt a little more worth it.”

Darcy laughed despite her still-spinning head. “You sound like a Hallmark movie.”

Selma pretended to be shocked and reached for the silver locket around her neck. She popped it open with practiced twist of her thumbnail. “Raina,” she said aloud to the photo inside. “Do you hear that? Do you hear the sass your little girl is giving me while I’m trying to clean up your mess?” Darcy laughed again and rolled her eyes as Selma held the picture to her ear. “Well the least you could do is tell her what she should do now that she knows the truth.” She paused and listened again, nodding with understanding before she closed the locket and dropped it back to her chest.

“Well?” Darcy asked, folding her arms over the table again.

“She has no idea,” Selma said with a shrug. “But she thinks that lip stain you’re wearing is a perfect summer color.”

Darcy coughed out another laugh and shook her head. “Classic Raina,” she muttered. “Fucking useless in a crisis.”

Selma held up her own mug and tapped it to her niece’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

 

Sunset was hitting its pinkest peak by the time Darcy wandered back to Steve’s house. She knocked once on the front door and waited almost a minute before she tried the handle. It turned easily, and she found the house empty and quiet. She paused in the foyer and tilted her head at the muffled sound of voices nearby. She followed them into the kitchen and stopped at the screen door.

Steve and Charlotte were sitting together on the back steps, sharing a carton of strawberries between them.

“But what if she doesn’t come back?” Charlotte asked and Darcy felt a hard stab of guilt twist into her stomach.

“She’ll come back,” Steve promised gently.

“But she seemed really mad.”

“She _was_ really mad,” he agreed as he reached for another berry. “But that’s for me to worry about—not you, okay?”

“Are you guys still in love?”

Darcy swallowed hard and tried to force herself to make her presence known. Her feet stayed where they were, her mouth refused to open. “Of course we are,” Steve said with confidence.

“Then why were you fighting?”

He sighed. “Because I screwed up,” he said after a moment. “I stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong.” His shoulders moved in a shrug. “But that’s what happens sometimes when people love each other. They try to do the right thing and they end up…”

“Screwing up?” Charlotte finished for him.

She heard the soft smile in his voice. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Screwing up.”

Charlotte was quiet for a long moment before she spoke again. “But what if she _doesn’t_ come back?”

Darcy cleared her throat and forced herself forward. “She came back,” she said as her hand reached the handle of the screen door.

Charlotte was first through the door and wrapped her arms so tight around her waist it was hard to breathe. “I was really worried,” she admitted, not letting go. “I thought you might be done with us.”

She swallowed down the lump in her throat and forced a laugh. “Done with you?” she repeated. “Are you kidding me?” She unwound Charlotte’s arms from her waist and bent to be at eye-level. “I shouldn’t have left angry like that,” she said, locking their blue eyes. “I’m really sorry I worried you,” she said sincerely before she continued, “but I would _never_ leave without saying goodbye, okay?”

Charlotte hugged her again, her arms around her neck this time. “I don’t ever want you to say goodbye,” she said quietly, into Darcy’s dark hair.

Darcy hugged her back and kissed the side of her head. “I won’t,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Steve had joined them by the time Charlotte let her go. He stood closer to the door, hands in his pockets, not quite making eye contact.

Charlotte took a step back and glanced between the two of them. “I’m…going to go watch tv in my room,” she said without a hint of subtlety.

The silence she left was deafening until Steve finally spoke. “Hey.”

The corner of Darcy’s lips lifted into a smile. “Hey.”

His chest rose with a deep inhale before he let it out in _whoosh_ and an avalanche of words. “Darcy, I’m so sorry I gave Tony your number. I was just trying to help and I should have stayed out of it like you asked me to and like Sam _told_ me to and I just should have listened to you and I didn’t even think about—”

She crossed the few feet between them and pressed a hand firmly over his mouth. “You _did_ screw up,” she assured him. “And I _was_ really mad at you for getting in the middle of this.”

“I know. I’m so—”

She pressed her hand down more firmly, cancelling out his attempt at another muffled apology. “ _But_ I shouldn’t have walked out like that. And I shouldn’t have made you the target for _all_ of my anger when you really only deserve like…” she stopped and thought about it. “Like forty percent.”

His eyebrows raised. “Forty percent?” he asked when she dropped her hand.

She shrugged. “I was going to say fifty, but apparently my Aunt’s been lying to me my whole life too, so she gets a little bit of the resentment I was going to send my mother’s way.”

Steve’s shoulders dropped. “I never even thought…”

Her shoulders moved as she offered an understanding nod. “I know,” she assured him. “Because you had to make your own family and it’s…” she swallowed. “It’s a really beautiful way to live, Steve. The more the merrier.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter,” he argued lightly. “It’s your call—he’s your family. You figure out what you want to do with him.”

Tentatively, Darcy reached out and laced their hands together. “Maybe I want to give your way of looking at things a try,” she said after a moment of thoughtful silence. “It might not be the worst thing. To try to get to know him.”

Steve’s look of surprise faded to a smirk. “Who knows? You might even like him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He untangled their fingers and reached a hand up to brush her hair from her eyes. “Do you forgive me?” he asked softly, hopeful enough to twist her heart.

She nodded. “I do,” she promised and stretched up on her toes to kiss him. The kind of kiss that made her eyes flutter closed and immediately made her want to sink into him and let him lift her off her feet. But she pulled away before he could make a move to deepen the kiss. “Give me your phone,” she insisted, forcing herself to do this before she lost her nerve.

He looked confused as he let her go and reached for his back pocket. “Why…?”

“I’m going to get this over with and call Tony before I change my mind.”

Steve handed over his phone. “Why don’t you use yours?” he asked, tilting his head to one side. “I thought he called you.”

She paused in her scrolling of his contacts and pursed her lips. “I…deleted his number from my call and text log.”

Steve said nothing as she took a deep breath and tapped on the name before she could chicken out. It rang three times before he picked up. “Hello?”

His voice was rich and clear in a way she hadn’t bothered to notice before and for a second, Darcy found herself wondering if he could sing.

The man she’d made up in her childhood fantasies would sing if she asked him to.

“Hello?” Tony asked a second time, startling her into action. “Rogers? That you?”

Darcy cleared her throat. “Uh, no,” she said finally. “No, it’s not Steve. It’s…” she swallowed hard. “It’s Darcy. Raina Lewis' daughter?” she coughed again. “And. Um. Yours...I guess?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but love for the good folks of Gainesville, I promise.
> 
> Also, there's a You've Got Mail reference in this chapter (since it's been awhile) see if you can spot it. :)
> 
> Love you babes and would love so hard if you told me what you think!


	3. III

III.

The restaurant was busier than she would have thought for a Sunday morning. She put a hand on her leg to force it to stop bouncing and checked the clock on her phone again.

Still early.

Tony wasn’t there yet, but he’d made a reservation and the hostess had seated her the minute she’d walked in.

A waitress stopped at the table and offered a pleasant smile. “Something to drink while you’re waiting?”

“Can I have a bourbon, please?”

The server blinked. “It’s…eight-thirty in the morning.”

Darcy swallowed hard. “Coffee and bourbon, then?”

“That sounds appropriate,” Tony’s voice, coming from behind them, interrupted and pulled Darcy’s attention away from the server. “Make it two.”

When Darcy turned back, their server’s smile had doubled, and a faint blush had appeared on her round cheeks. “Sure thing, Mr. Stark.”

Tony slid into the chair across from her and offered a smile that seemed more than a little nervous. “I’m not late, am I?” he asked by way of greeting, checking his watch. “We said eight-thirty?”

She was relieved he’d sat straight down. That they hadn’t arrived at the same time and had to maneuver through the stickiness of the acceptable expectation of physical contact for a first, awkward breakfast together.

She wasn’t ready for hugs yet. She wasn’t even sure she was ready for handshakes.

“Uh, yeah,” Darcy blinked and cleared her throat. “Yeah, no, you’re not late.”

“Good,” he relaxed a modicum. His dark eyes glanced around briefly before they settled back on her.

She wet her lips and resisted the urge to fidget again. “So the…uh, the servers all…know you, here?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Well, most of them. I’m friends with the owner; I come here a lot.”

“Ah,” she mirrored his nod.

The server returned with two snifters of bourbon and two cups of coffee. “Are you ready to order or need a few minutes?”

Darcy felt herself blanch in panic as she realized she hadn’t even glanced at the menu card next to her bread plate. “Uh…"

“Just a few more minutes,” Tony said with another smile in the waitress’ direction.

“So, what’s good here?” Darcy asked once they were alone again. She trained her eyes on the menu, not trusting herself to look up. If she looked up, she didn’t trust herself not to start studying him closer, cataloguing features and traits and trying to match them with her own. 

“They do a great Benedict,” he said mildly, studying his own menu. “Actually, yeah, I think that’s what I want.”

She felt her stomach twist in hunger and forced herself to choose something else, not wanting to admit just yet that eggs benedict were her favorite.

The server reappeared and took their order: eggs benedict for Tony and blackberry french toast for Darcy. The latter managed to wait until the waitress left the table again before she blurted out what had been chewing at her mind since he’d walked in.

“I’m going to keep calling you Tony, okay?”

Tony looked up, pausing in his mission to unroll his napkin roll. “Sorry?”

“I just…” she stammered, flustered by her own outburst. “This is super weird and I just want to set some ground rules before anyone gets their hopes up. I’m just going to keep calling you Tony. Not Dad or Pops or Daddy—”

“ _Definitely_ not Daddy,” Tony interjected with a flash of wide-eyed panic that mirrored her own.

Despite her twisted gut, Darcy felt her lips twitch into a smile. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page on that one.”

Tony smiled back and set his napkin in his lap. “Any other rules you want to get out of the way?”

“Uh, yeah, actually.”

He rubbed his hands together eagerly. “I love it. Lay it on me.”

Taken momentarily aback by how eager he was to hear what she had to say, Darcy cleared her throat. “Okay, well, first thing’s first: I don’t want your money.”

“Comforting,” he said with a thoughtful nod.

“I’m serious,” she insisted. “I don’t want you to think you owe me anything or start feeling extra generous for no reason other than we happen to share the same DNA. I really have no interest in ever knowing how much you’re worth or what you do with all of it and I definitely don’t want you trying to give any of it to me. Okay?”

“Got it,” Tony said seriously before he cracked a smile. “No invitation to the Scrooge McDuck swimming pool of gold coins for you.

She rolled her eyes and smiled back. “Thank you.”

“What’s next on the list?”

"That thing you did? Where you kept trying to get a hold of me and kept trying all forms of communication? After I didn’t answer the first time?" 

Tony winced. "That was pretty uncool  wasn't it?" 

" _Super_ uncool."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. It's been suggested that I come on a little strong sometimes." 

"Liberace was subtle compared to you, dude. Work on that."

To her surprise, he didn't seem offended. "I'll try," he nodded, his lips curled in a half-smile. "What else ya got?" 

“Um, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ever try to meddle in my business at the bakery unless I ask for your help.”

“Of course,” he said immediately, calming her irrational worry that he might suddenly want a say in how she ran her livelihood.

“And please no opinions on who I’m dating or what I’m doing with my life or my own finances,” she paused before she added the final caveat. “And you’re not allowed to ask me for grandchildren.”

Tony choked out a cough and held a fist to his chest. “Jesus Christ, honey. One generation at a time. I haven’t even gotten used to _this_ yet,” he motioned to the air between them. “Give me a minute.” To her surprise, he reached for his bourbon and not his water to calm his coughing.

Darcy took a sip of her own, relishing the sweet sting of the liquor as it warmed her throat down to her belly. “Those are the big ones,” she said when he’d grown quiet again.

Tony nodded. “I think I can handle that,” he said, sounding sincere. “Am I allowed to ask you any other questions?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Like what?”

“Like…how are you? Specifically or in general? What cartoons did you watch when you were a kid? Where did you go to college? Did you ever enter a science fair?” His smile took on a hint of shyness that Darcy had to imagine was rare for him. “You can tell me whatever you want,” he added. “I just want to try to get to know my daughter.”

She blinked. She hadn’t known what to expect from this breakfast meeting, but Tony’s interest in her life’s inane details wasn’t at the top of the list. If she was being honest, she hadn’t even considered that they both might make it through placing their order before one of them decided it was too weird and called the whole thing off.

“Uh. Care Bears,” she answered after a croak of uncertainty. “And—well, it wasn’t a cartoon, but I really loved Wishbone.”

“Wishbone,” Tony repeated, looking dangerously close to writing this down. “That was the little chihuahua that dressed up like all the different stories?”

“He was a Jack Russell terrier,” Darcy corrected before she could stop herself. “But yeah. That’s the one.” She took a sip of her coffee. “And I didn’t go to _college_ college,” she admitted. “But I was top of my class at ICC.” When no recognition lit his eyes, she added, “International Culinary Center."

“Oh, right. Down in Tribeca?”

She nodded. “And no science fair,” she said, wondering if she was actually disappointing him. “But I won the state geography bee in fifth grade. Mom was super proud.”

Tony’s smile was bright and disarming, and just enough to convince her to keep talking.

They played Twenty Questions—twenty safe, surface-level questions—through breakfast. Darcy learned plenty more than she ever thought she would. Tony was allergic to coconut and penicillin, he would love ACDC and the Mets until the day he died, and he played the piano.

And he could, if asked nicely, sing along as he played.

After the plates had been cleared away and refills on the coffee consumed, the server returned with a single black folio and went to set it in the center of the table. “Oh,” Darcy held up a hand. “Separate checks, please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the waitress snatched it right back. “I just got in Father’s Day mode and assumed you were together.” She apologized again and bustled off.

Darcy frowned. “Father’s Day is today?”

Tony shrugged and looked around at the other tables. It was suddenly apparent that most of the older men in the restaurant were there to be treated by sons and daughters and the occasional grandchild. Most tables held cards or small, wrapped gifts. “Guess so.”

Her frown deepened. “You mean you didn’t pick today to get together on purpose?”

He laughed. “I picked today because yesterday I was asleep for eighteen hours while I was trying to reset from Barcelona time. I haven’t thought about Father’s Day since…” he stopped and squinted in thought. “1992, I think?” His head snapped back to its rightful position. “And anyway, Steve’s a dad…isn’t Charlotte doing anything to celebrate him today?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “Everyone was still asleep when I left.”

They’d stayed up until almost two, all three of them, making s’mores in the fire pit and watching scary movies that had Darcy and Charlotte enraptured while Steve squeezed his eyes shut and refused to watch the most frightening parts. He was barely awake enough to accept her goodbye kiss and wish her luck before she’d left that morning.

“Huh,” Tony said thoughtfully, head tilted again. “Father’s Day…” he tried out the words, tasting them on his tongue before he decided how he felt about them.

Darcy raised an eyebrow and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “So. How’s it treating you?” she asked, uncertain of how else to address the awkwardness they’d be swimming in for a long time to come.

Tony smiled. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It’s my first one.”

Darcy felt herself smile back. “Mine too.”

 

 

_-fin-_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Right? Who's surprised. Absolutely no one. I'm not even going to pretend that was a reveal, it was so ridiculously heavy-handed and foreshadowed since chapter 3 of 'Kinda Magical'. Anyway, it's there now and we can enjoy the awkwardness to come! 
> 
> And...y'know...even though we all knew it was coming, I'd still love to know what you think. 
> 
> Kisses and love!


End file.
